In front of a quieter (but solid and supportive) audience than I've recently experienced at Resolution!, the night got underway with Company Ben Abbes' 'White Room'.

Presenting promising ideas on paper, this piece for five dancers dressed all in white seemed somewhat detached from such concepts as death, fear and loneliness which are mentioned in the programme notes. Instead, the choreography concerned itself more with carefully placed, all-too-familiar movement which unfortunately did not connect to its subject matter or audience.

Throughout the piece, sudden changes in lighting state serve to provide more structure to the space, as did the introduction of seemingly personal props such as a box of belongings, and a small hooded jumper. The piece ended after a duet between choreographer Cat Ben Abbes and dancer Daniel Kovacs, somewhat surprising the audience with the abruptness with which it finished.


More surprises were in store in the form of Tamar Daly & Nicolette Corcoran's charming and well-crafted 'Decode This'. In a fusion of vocals (spoken, sung and looped brilliantly) and quirky, shifting, twitching movements, they explore morse code, texting and love through coded messages.

Reminiscent at times of Protein's 'LOL (Lots of Love)' the piece had these two engaging performers embodying emoticons and telling simple but compelling tales of the text they received after 'last night' (winking smiley ;-) )

Amongst Kristina Hjelm's simple but effective linear lighting in the form of a large 'x', exchanges of glances between performers suggest there is an element of improvisation or chance to the movement together with the sound. No code needed: it works.

Four dancers take to the smoke-filled stage for the night's final work, Kaonashi's 'FADE'. A sequin-clad Katerina Toumpa moves to the beat that is to be a constant throughout the piece, the movement gradually building and devouring the space, watched by the three other exaggerated characters, fantastically made-up by Rebecca Jane Peebles.

Fast footwork and pulsating torsos take the four performers across the space, catching moments of unison and some of the personal journeys driven by the music.

Duets and interactions are frequent and aggressive, well executed by all; the piece succeeds in creating an environment, although it makes no attempt to explain it, nor does it apologise for the bizarre, as a penguin on an iceberg crosses the stage. And well it shouldn't, the bizarre is brilliant.

After a mesmerising solo from Chris Rook, moving fluidly and in staccato seemingly simultaneously, the piece ends on a somewhat thoughtful, melancholy note, a sadness perhaps at the end of what has been one big trip. And the penguin gets a bow...